


A Study in Thedas

by inkalla



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: 100 word drabbles, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Be Careful What You Wish For, Eventual Relationships, Fantastic Racism, Minor Character Death, Minor Charter/Scout Pellane, Modern Girl in Thedas, Multi, Non-Linear Narrative, POV Third Person Omniscient, Qunlat, Rating May Change, Thedosian Culture and Customs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-22
Updated: 2016-10-07
Packaged: 2018-08-16 17:59:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 5,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8111974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkalla/pseuds/inkalla
Summary: A girl must learn to live in her favorite fictional world: Thedas. It's turning out to be a lot harder than she could ever have imagined.





	1. The Foreigner

 

An endless blanket of pure white snow surrounded her, unbroken by footprints. The scouts claimed she hadn’t been there ten minutes before. She spoke a strange language and wore things not even an Orlesian would dare. Unwilling to take chances, the commander ordered her shackled and escorted to the Skyhold dungeon.

Seeker Pentaghast pondered if the girl was a demon. Leliana defended that the poor thing was a mage, after consulting with the resident Fade expert. The commander—almost use to dealing with crazy things—opined they should wait for the Inquisitor.

Only Josephine thought to teach the girl Common.

 

* * *

 

The Herald’s Rest was the perfect way to keep tabs on the girl, and so that was where they assigned her. The barkeep thanked them for the extra help; the minstrel praised her pretty singing voice; and all Sera said was, “Have you seen what her tongue can do with a cherry?”

Despite their drunken revelry, the Chargers also kept a watchful eye between missions. “Not a fighter,” Krem reported. “Too clumsy, lousy stamina. No callouses on her hands either. She hasn’t worked a day in her life.”

Bull, however, had a speculative gleam in his eye. “She knows Qunlat.”

 

* * *

 

“Your Common is progressing nicely,” Josephine said one day over tea. The Girl from Nowhere had become a pet project of sorts. “Your mother tongue, what was it called again?”

“Ing-glish,” enunciated the girl.

“I never thought to ask. Do you speak any other languages?”

She hesitated for only a second, but it was a second too long. Her warm brown eyes, so expressive, glanced down into her teacup. “No.” A blush colored her cheeks. “I know… bad words? How you say…?”

The ambassador made a note to speak again with The Iron Bull. “Curses? Swears?”

“Yes! ‘Curses’ and ‘swears’.”

 

* * *

  

As usual, The Iron Bull did all his spying out in the open. He peppered Common with Qunlat around the girl whenever the chance presented itself. A smile tugged on her lips at certain things, like his requests for more _maraas-lok_. She frowned when he referred to anyone as _bas_. When he explained the term _aqun-athlok_ to some simpleton giving Krem a hard time, there wasn’t even a hint of surprise on her face.

Her reactions were small, but they did exist. The more Bull spoke, the more he was sure she understood more than cusses.

So, a fellow _hissrad_.

 

  **to be continued...**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2016.09.22: This story simply wouldn’t leave me alone until I put pen to paper, so to speak. It has been outlined; all that remains is to write each 100-word snippet and bundle them into chapters. Anticipate new chapters every three days unless stated otherwise. Cross-posted on FFN.


	2. Homesick

“She’s not from here or there,” Cole said, pale eyes unfocused. “She came from in-between… or maybe upside down. Things from nowhere end up somewhere. Where did 11 go?”

Sister Leliana stared where the spirit boy had been less than a second ago. Why she had expected anything other than mysteries and riddles, she couldn’t say. With a shake of her head, the spymaster turned and climbed back down the stairs to the heart of the tavern.

Varric was sitting with the Chargers. The girl was serving them. “So, Cherry—that’s you—I hear you can do a neat trick…”

 

* * *

 

Chamber pots were a disgusting but necessary evil. The miracle known as the toilet had yet to be introduced. She had been aware of this on some deep level. Knowing about something, however, was very different from experiencing it. Cherry did not care at all for the experience of pissing into a smelly bowl. She cared even less for the idea of some poor chamber maid scrubbing away at stubborn shit stains.

Twice a day, she cleaned out her own pot. If the only other person she noticed doing that was Sera… well, at least she was in good company.

 

* * *

 

Oh, how much time her cell phone had eaten! Hands, always hanging awkward and empty, itched for something to do. She fidgeted like a crack whore craving another fix. What on earth had people done before the World Wide Web? The lack of a cell phone wasn’t a serious bother until Cabot first left her alone behind the bar. Cherry stared down at the ledger as her stomach sank into her boots. Although Josephine had not yet taught her to read, it seemed numbers still looked the same. Unfortunately, mental math wasn’t her strong suit… and there was no calculator.

 

* * *

 

Loneliness settled in faster than the girl noticed. When she wasn’t working a shift at the tavern, she was eating or sleeping. All of her wages, meager as they were, went to necessities and booze.

Master Dennet woke her once and said, “If I find you passed out in the hay again, you’d bloody well better get up and help feed the horses.” Gruff but kind, the old man sent her away with a fresh canteen of water.

She ran from the barn with red, tear-streaked cheeks. Of all the things she pined for, Cherry missed her horse the most.

 

* * *

 

Towers of glass set aflame during sunsets. Metallic contraptions whizzing down smooth, paved roads at dizzying speeds. A flattened box with portraits that moved, a window to events playing out elsewhere.

Solas watched the girl’s dreams and saw faint echoes of home.

Cherry was a human. Not a mage or a spirit or a demon. Just a human. Nevertheless, her dreams transformed the Fade in ways most people could never begin to imagine. Watching the scenery shift and change left him with more questions than answers.

Spirits rejoiced against her sleeping mind. Demons prowled ever closer.

He would observe further.

 

**to be continued...**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2016.09.23: Apologies to anyone who saw the first version of this chapter. I'm new to posting here, and somehow I managed to mess up the chapter formatting. It should be all fixed now. Writing this story is also progressing quicker than planned; although the goal is still one update every three days, do not be surprised if there are daily updates.


	3. The Public House

A great many patrons of Herald’s Rest treated Cabot well and tipped him even better. No one looked down on the man for being a dwarf (figuratively speaking). Still, as time passed, it became clear that women’s eyes tended to focus on other conquests. If a human female hit on their resident bartender at all, chances were she was some kind of fetishist.

Once in a while, his unique brand of humor enticed a willing woman. Those were the nights he left Cherry in charge of the bar. His parting words of advice: “Avoid mixing anything that tastes like nug.”

 

* * *

 

People flocked to The Iron Bull. Most of them tried to play it smooth, but it was easy to tell what they wanted. Men and women alike allowed their eyes to roam over exposed qunari flesh when they thought themselves unobserved. Other serving girls found excuses to touch him; a playful slap on a muscled shoulder, a hand resting on top of one twice as big. Even Krem looked—just the once—after Cherry gave him too many refills.

Bull seemed to enjoy the attention. He seldom left the tavern alone. She noticed, though, that all his partners were gossips.

 

* * *

 

The only person who came on to Sera was Maryden.

Sera insisted the song written in her honor was creepy. She made it clear that if their resident minstrel harbored any desires, those feelings were full stop unrequited. Wisely, Maryden never acknowledged the rogue’s accusations. However, she wrote no more songs about the Inquisitor’s inner ring of trusted companions. Well, no more that were quite so on the nose, anyway. The raven-haired musician kept her lyrics general and relevant to current events.

It made Cherry a bit sad. Who wouldn’t love a song written especially about them?

Sera—that’s who.

 

* * *

 

Herald’s Rest was not, as the name suggested, a peaceful retreat from the chaotic Skyhold lifestyle. If anything, it compounded the chaos.

People gathered to drink and carouse and socialize.

They also gathered to hash out deals and settle differences.

Most of all, they gathered to flirt.

Cherry saw more people hook up in the tavern than she had in all her years of high school and college. How there wasn’t a rampant outbreak of STDs, she didn’t know. One thing was certain: it was always funny when a mage and templar snuck away, hoping nobody else was the wiser.

 

* * *

 

The tavern namesake visited once.

Inquisitor Trevelyan was an average woman, discounting the whole living legend bit. She dressed in fine but unassuming clothes. She wore no crown and carried no weapons. The crowd didn’t notice her until she had reached the Chargers’ unofficial corner.

It was then that Cherry learned on a deeper level what it meant to be the Herald. Evelyn Trevelyan could never let loose and have fun. No one flirted with her. No one joked too much. Hell, nobody uttered a word they wouldn’t dare say in front of their mother.

The Inquisitor didn’t come again.

 

* * *

 

Things were winding down for the night. Cabot left early, trusting the Ing-glish girl to close up shop.

He slid onto a stool, empty mug thudding on the bar between them. “Got any more _maraas-lok_ back there?”

“Just for you, Bull.” Cherry smiled and retrieved a half-full bottle.

He watched with a gimlet eye as she poured him a shot. “Why not pour yourself one, too?”

After a hesitant glance around at the vacant tavern, she did.

Bull knocked back the liquor and gave a satisfied hiss. “Now, _bas_ , tell me how someone like you learns Qunlat.”

She choked mid-drink.

 

**to be continued...**


	4. Suspicious

“I assure you, Sister Leliana, the girl has no magic.” Solas reclined in his chair, considering the spymaster. “You can ask any of the mages. She shows no signs and has no symptoms of mana buildup.”

The redhead began to pace in front of his desk. “Then how did she get here?”

“We know magic must be involved. The specifics, however, are not clear.”

“It can’t have been a rift… could it? Surely we would know if one had opened so close to Skyhold. And Evelyn would have needed to close it.”

“That is correct.”

Leliana sighed. “Thank you, Solas.”

 

* * *

 

Metal clanged against wood. Cassandra paused in her attack, catching her breath long enough to speak. “We’ve been over this. I have sensed no lyrium in the girl’s veins.”

“Yes, but how often are you around Cherry?”

“Not that often, I’ll admit.” The Seeker struck out with her sword again, catching the dummy on its neck. A sneer curled her lip as she glanced at Leliana. “And stop using the dwarf’s ridiculous nickname.”

“As soon as you stop referring to Varric as ‘the dwarf’, I will.” Blue eyes danced with mirth. “You can’t stay angry with him forever, you know.”

 

* * *

 

“Cherry? Well… I don’t know. She don’t talk much.”

“Kinda keeps to herself, yeah? Quiet.”

“She talks funny. I think she’s strange. I heard tell they found her out in the snow, raving like a lunatic.”

“Cabot likes her. Maybe because she doesn’t _throw herself at every man that walks through the door_ , Katherine!”

From a room in the back, muffled: “I heard that!”

“He does let her run the bar when he takes a night off. Not often, mind. She knows her way around back there, though.”

Sister Nightingale thanked the tavern serving girls before sending them all away.

 

* * *

 

Master Dennet was tending to Scout Harding’s mount when she found him in the barn. He greeted her with a nod of his bald head.

“You are familiar with Cherry?”

The question gave him pause. “Who?”

“Brown eyes, freckles, and speaks with an accent. She is… fond… of alcohol and works under Cabot at the tavern.”

“Oh, her,” the old horsemaster said. “I should’ve known you would be around. Well, I’m afraid I have nothing to tell you, Sister. The girl visits the horses once in a while. Takes comfort in them, I think. We don’t exactly talk.”

“I see.”

 

* * *

 

“What do you have for me?” Leliana was straight to the point as the qunari mercenary strode up the stairs to the rookery.

Bull came prepared. He let a written report fall to the spymaster’s desk as he said, “She’s still a liar. Tried to tell me she knew a _tal-vashoth_ family once, picked up some words and phrases from them.”

“Did you determine her fluency?”

“Yeah, she at least told the truth about that.” He shrugged. “Basic shit. Can’t speak in complete sentences. It’s almost like she spent time around the _antaam_. She knows a lot of military terms.”

 

**to be continued...**

 


	5. Accusations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter first posted: September 28, 2016. Chapter edited: September 29, 2016.

“Why don’t you and I take a walk?”

“You wait for me, now you want walk with me? What will Katherine think?” Cherry said with a bravado she didn’t feel. “Bull, you break her heart.”

He chuckled. “If Katherine wants more than a night of fun from me, that’s her problem. Seriously though, it’s not like that. The boss wants to speak with you.”

“What?” Her eyebrows shot up. “In-quis-it-or wants speak with me? Why?”

All humor evaporated from his face. “We both know you aren’t that stupid. Finish closing up and let’s go. Wouldn’t want to keep anyone waiting.”

 

* * *

 

Her heart hammered in her ears as they stood in front of the door to the Inquisitor’s quarters.  

“Interesting.”

Cherry startled and whirled around, a jolt of adrenaline shooting through her body. “Do not do that!” Brown eyes glared out from under thick eyebrows. “You scare me!”

Bull smirked. “Well, I’ll say this: if you _are_ a spy, you’re the worst spy I’ve ever met. Your reactions are shit.”

“Not a spy!”

“Mind explaining how you knew the way here, then?”

She blinked. “You show me?”

“No.” He shook his horned head. “You led me up here.”

Her stomach clenched.

 

* * *

 

Gone was the average Evelyn Trevelyan who had visited the tavern several days ago. In her place was a stoic leader dressed in the finest armor and leathers money could buy. Bathed in shadows and candlelight, her face was a frightening mask of stone. “Cherry, is it?” She gestured to an ornate chair in front of her desk. “Please, sit.”

If not for Bull at her back, conveniently blocking the stairway, she might’ve made a run for it. Instead, she took a deep breath and clenched her trembling hands.

“Hello, Inquisitor,” she said, moving forward to take the offered seat.

 

* * *

 

“Josephine tells me your Common is greatly improved.” The Herald’s eyes flicked over to where Bull remained standing. “I’ve also been made aware that you have a basic understanding of Qunlat.”

Although the pause was a clear opening to speak, Cherry remained quiet.

“I have some questions,” Evelyn continued. “Your mother tongue is Ing-glish? I’ve never heard of that before. I was hoping you could give me more information about it.”

Still, she didn’t say a word.

“Could you tell me where it is spoken? Perhaps a local dialect of some other language? I’m told it sounds similar to Ander.”

 

* * *

 

What could she possibly tell them about home? Informing them they were all supposed to be fictional characters seemed wrong. She wasn’t even sure if it was the truth any more. Everyone she had met in Thedas was a real person with individual thoughts and emotions. Looking back, the games had been a pale shadow of the vibrant life she saw in Skyhold.

There were two options: tell the truth, or lie.

Telling the truth meant they might—they _would_ —label her insane.

Lying… well, she _had_ been lying. It hadn’t worked.

What was the best way to help everyone?

 

* * *

 

Evelyn switched tactics. She shifted in her grand chair and leaned forward. “You must know how this all looks. My commander found you in the snow. You just… appeared! Out of nowhere! You speak two foreign languages, one of which belongs to a hostile people—no offense, Bull—and your fellow tavern workers report that you are detached and aloof. You have to admit it all sounds suspicious.”

Cherry shook her head. “Not a spy! I promise!”

“Then explain,” the Inquisitor pressed. “Tell me how you got here. Tell me about your language. And tell me why you speak Qunlat.”

 

* * *

 

For the first time since waking up in this strange new world, Cherry felt like she was out of her element. Learning the local language? Hard but doable. Figuring out the coin-based currency? Piece of cake.

Brown eyes locked with hazel, each pair narrowed in mounting frustration. The line between helping and hurting was _extremely_ fine. If there was a way to tell the Inquisitor everything and still be sure nothing would go wrong, she would do it in a heartbeat. Unfortunately, she knew her very presence had the power to change things for the worse.

How could she help?

 

* * *

 

“She isn’t lying. Not about this.”

A boy in patchwork clothes and a wide-brimmed hat stood on the Inquisitor’s desk. Cherry stared up at him, positive he hadn’t been there a second ago. Her mouth dropped open when she finally realized who he was: Cole! She had forgotten he existed until the very moment she’d laid eyes on him.

Pale blue eyes looked down at her in confusion. “You… know me?”

“You know him?” Evelyn’s glare was accusing. “Wait, Cole—she isn’t lying? How do you two know each other?”

“No.” The spirit boy shook his head. “ _She_ knows _me_.”

 

**to be continued...**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2016.09.29: A new 100 word segment was added to help the chapter flow better. Before, it was kind of confusing. No plot elements were changed by this edit.


	6. Revelations

They had backed her into a corner. She needed to explain how she knew a spirit with the power to make people forget his very existence, and the only way to do so was by telling the truth. If she lied, Cole would call her out on it, even if by accident. The fact that he had shown up to defend her spoke volumes; he, a spirit of compassion, thought she could truly help. It was the nudge she needed.

Cherry took a deep breath. “Okay.” She nodded over at Bull. “I explain everything… but first, please, he must leave.”

 

* * *

  

Evelyn listened with rapt attention as the foreigner began her story. Cole stood next to her chair, quiet and motionless.

“Cole,” the foreign girl said. “I know you. Also know Inquisitor… Josephine… all the people. My home… is… far away. A different… ah, what is word…”

They helped translate her strange words into Common when prompted. It was an easy enough matter with Cole’s assistance. Without him, Evelyn wouldn’t have believed anything out of Cherry’s mouth. The whole tale sounded insane: a place called Earth, a glowing man, a magic mirror.

Then again, _she_ had fallen out of the Fade.

 

* * *

 

Cherry told them as much as she dared. Keeping the story concise was easier said than done. It was difficult to explain Earth and normal human life in the year 2016. Every time she thought the topic finished, her listeners piped up with another question.

Wax dripped onto the Inquisitor’s desk as the candles burned lower and lower. The midnight bell had tolled ages ago when she finally began explaining video games.

Yes, her world could ‘look’ into Thedas.

No, she didn’t understand how.

Yes, she had ‘watched’ the Warden and Hawke, too.

Yes, that was why she knew Qunlat.

 

* * *

  

“She has proof,” Cole said once the tale was told.

The Inquisitor arched an eyebrow. “Proof is good. Let’s hear it.”

“You scare of spiders,” Cherry said. “I cannot tell other people secrets. Respect. But… can tell you thing that will be?”

“Go on.”

“Qun want alliance with Inquisition. Ask yet?”

“No.”

“Good. Not trust them. Liars. Test for Iron Bull.”

Evelyn glanced at Cole, but he didn’t react. “What do you mean?”

The girl shrugged. “Want see if he true Qunari or _tal-vashoth_.”

“And they’re going to do this… how?”

“Do you have phrase, ‘Between rock and hard place’?”

 

**to be continued...**


	7. Keep Low

Be the shadow: this was the mantra Cherry repeated in her thoughts over and over again, like a broken record, in the days following her talk with the Inquisitor. Before, she had tried to keep to herself. Now, she did a fair job of emulating Cole.

She took meals in her room.

The moment Cabot let her go, she practically flew from the tavern.

If someone else came to the bath house in the dead of night, she finished washing and left.

And if The Iron Bull watched her even closer than before, she tried very hard not to notice.

 

* * *

 

“You aren’t telling me everything, Inquisitor.” In the gloom of the rookery, surrounded by winged shadows, the spymaster was intimidating.

Evelyn steeled her spine and squared her jaw. “No. Don’t go digging on this one, Leliana. The moment I have something solid to share, you’ll be the first to know. I promise.”

“At least tell me if you think she is a threat.”

“If I did, it would have been in my report.”

“You expect me do nothing? We know nothing about this ‘Earth’ or what kind of magic brought her here.”

She sighed. “Just give me some time. Please?”

 

* * *

 

“You’ve missed your last two lessons,” the ambassador said.

Cherry shifted in her seat, guilt furrowing her brow. “Yes. I want… wanted to keep low.”

“ _Lay_ low. You wanted to lay low for a while?”

“Inquisitor told you about me?”

Josephine took a sip of tea and set down her cup and saucer. “She did. I’m glad you finally talked to someone. It was plain to see you were upset. You must be so homesick.”

The girl tilted her head. “Inquisitor didn’t say anything else?”

“Only that you were from a faraway place called Earth. Was there something else?”

“…No.”

 

* * *

 

The Iron Bull was sparring with Krem when she found him in the upper bailey, near the tavern. He ordered his second-in-command to take a break before turning to greet her.

“Boss!” The qunari dipped his horned head in a nod and wiped the sweat from his brow. “Glad you stopped by. I got a letter from my Ben-Hassrath contacts. Already verified it with Red.”

Evelyn’s stomach clenched. “What did it say?”

“They’re ready to work with us—with you. The Qunari and Inquisition, joining forces.”

She sucked in a breath and swallowed a curse. Cherry had told the truth.

 

**to be continued...**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2016.10.02: This is the first piece of fan fiction I've written or shared with the world. Frankly, I'm surprised that so many of you seem to be enjoying it, and I'm incredibly touched by the positive responses it has received. I just wanted to give you guys a heads up that Cherry is starting to have a thing for Bull. She didn't when I started writing, but the more I write, the more she does. However, I want to stress that romance has never been and never will be the primary focus of this story, and if her minor crush somehow evolves into an actual relationship, it won't happen for quite some time. 
> 
> Also, for those of you who are interested, you can now find me on Tumblr. I go by inkalla over there, too. Hope to see you there!


	8. Demands of the Qun

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *sobs* This chapter is so big!

One week there and another back; that was how long an uneventful round-trip took to the Storm Coast. Bad weather could tack on as much as another week. Darkspawn and bandits were another probable issue. And then once they arrived, the Inquisitor and her party would need to deal with the Venatori. They could be gone for more than a month. Cherry wouldn’t know the outcome of the mission until summer began to thaw the mountains.

She hadn’t even gotten to say goodbye to the Chargers. They left before the sunrise, unwittingly riding toward what could be their last mission.

 

* * *

 

Evelyn hated northern Ferelden with a burning passion. The endless deluge the coast was known for did nothing to douse her fury. In fact, with every new downpour, her ire grew tenfold.

Her socks were always wet and thus her toes were always cold. Mud prevented her boots from finding purchase on steep slopes. The rain made her squint, which was a problem during a skirmish. On top of all that, it was bear country—and thanks to the constant noise of water dripping, pattering, sloshing, and splashing, no one ever heard them approach until it was far too late.

 

* * *

 

Why hadn’t they brought a mage?

She cursed having made the decision. Before they had left, Leliana stressed how important it was to not offend the Qunari representative. Considering the Qunlat word _saarebas_ literally meant ‘dangerous thing’, Evelyn could only agree to leave behind her magical friends. It was a call she regretted making in hindsight.

Their contact wasn’t due yet, and the torrential rain had caused a mudslide. She and Bull made it to safety by the skin of their teeth. Varric, on the other hand, wasn’t so lucky. His fractured arm was in desperate need of a healer.

 

* * *

 

Gatt made it to the Storm Coast just in time to help them seal the last darkspawn hole. He moved with a quick precision Evelyn envied. Not a single strike of his daggers went to waste. She also observed how he worked with Bull. The two fell into what must’ve been an old routine; Gatt covered his blind side, and Bull did his best to distract the enemy. It gave Gatt plenty of chances to take darkspawn out from behind.

The elf fought well, but he got on her nerves. More than once, she contemplated shooting him with an arrow.

 

* * *

 

The closer the shipping date came, the more anxious Bull grew. Nothing about his words or body language helped set Evelyn at ease around the elf. He _said_ they were old friends… but he was a little too quick to laugh, a little too eager to joke. Gatt, for his part, seemed far too prickly around Bull—whom he insisted on calling Hissrad. “Liar,” the elf had translated, blunt and angry.

She could read between the lines; Gatt already thought Bull was _tal-vashoth_.

Cherry’s warning rattled around her thoughts more than once. _Not trust them. Liars. Test for Iron Bull._

 

* * *

 

The Blades of Hessarian were standing by as backup. Evelyn was confident their assistance wouldn’t be necessary.

Cassandra was ready with her Seeker abilities. They had proved invaluable against the Venatori before, and she was sure today would prove no different. Iron Bull, of course, was an old hand at fighting Vints. His Chargers were also nothing to sneeze at. Dalish was a talented ‘archer’, and Rocky had cooked up some mean grenades.

Their battle strategy was simple but effective: nullify their magic, and don’t get too close.

Still, Evelyn worried. _Test for Iron Bull… You know when you see_.

 

* * *

 

Red Templars accompanied the Venatori. How the Qunari had failed to account for them, she didn’t know. It wasn’t as if they were darkspawn, burrowing out of the ground without warning.

The fighting was bloody and awful. Evelyn saved her arrows for the templars, letting Cassandra focus on the mages. Bull and Gatt ran interference for both. They gave each other hasty checks for red lyrium after taking down each patrol. A more thorough sweep would have to wait until they were safe at camp.

“Vints up ahead!” Bull shouted as he charged forward.

Thankfully, it was their last target.

 

* * *

 

Twin flares burned bright in the storm-gray sky. Krem had managed to light the Chargers’ signal just before Evelyn’s group. The Qunari dreadnought surged forward from its hiding place, cutting through the waves with ease.

 A slow smile spread across Iron Bull’s face as he watched from the edge of the cliff. “That brings back memories.”

 Fire exploded out of the ship’s infamous cannons. Two hits, and the Venatori cutter sank in a smoking blaze.

 Unlike everyone else, Evelyn wasn’t paying attention to the water; she was gaping in horror down at the enemy patrol heading straight for the Chargers.

 

* * *

 

“Let me go,” she said, using her most imposing voice.  

Gatt was un-swayed. “No. If you go down there, those mages will fire on the dreadnought.”

With a grunt of effort, she jerked her wrist from his grasp. If not for her armor, it would have bruised. “You can’t _know_ that!”

The Iron Bull’s voice was flat. “When have you ever known a Venatori or a Red Templar to abandon the mission? They’ll do anything to make sure that shipment is safe.”

“We must do _something_!” Evelyn snapped. “The Chargers have no clue what’s heading their way. Sound the retreat!”

 

* * *

 

“Stitches!” Krem barked. “I need a poultice over here!”

Dalish was knocked out cold. She had shards of red lyrium buried in her armor, courtesy of a Red Templar shadow. He was picking out as many pieces as he could with a knife. With any luck, none of it cut through to her skin. The lyrium wasn’t the only problem, though. A nasty burn covered the entirety of her right leg, blistering the skin and raising angry red bubbles of flesh.

“One second,” Stitches called. “I need to finish up with Grim.”

Rocky held up his detached arm. “Me next…”

 

* * *

 

With sudden clarity, Evelyn whirled on Gatt. “The dreadnought is close enough to shore to see that patrol. Why don’t they retreat? Better yet, why not fire on them? We just saw what those cannons can do.”

The elf frowned at her and crossed his arms. “That wasn’t part of the plan, Inquisitor. In the Qun, we follow orders.”

“Right. And I suppose you have no idea how your scouts missed the _dozens_ of Red Templars? Or that patrol down there?” Evelyn scoffed. “I’m getting a very clear picture of your _orders_.”

She cocked back her fist and punched him.

 

* * *

 

“Krem! Incoming!”

The lieutenant picked up his shield and sprang to his feet. When he saw the Venatori at the foot of the hill, he drew his sword. “All right, Chargers! Horns up! We’ve got some more Venatori ass to kick!”

A pale-faced Rocky moved to sit by the unconscious Dalish. Stitches was still winding bandages around the stump of his right arm. Blood had already seeped through the cloth. Unless they could get the wound closed—unlikely, without magic—he was definitely going to bleed out.

 _Can’t think about that now_ , Krem thought.

With a loud bellow, he charged.

 

**to be continued...**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2016.10.03: Evelyn sided with the mages. Plus, the Red Templars are the ones mining the lyrium on the Storm Coast. PLUS, we know it's not safe for mages to handle raw lyrium. So why the hell are Venatori the only enemies we fight during the 'Demands of the Qun' quest? And don't even get me started on how bogus the whole forced choice was in that quest.


	9. Waiting

The Chargers’ claim on the tavern’s far corner held fast for about three weeks. People didn’t even wander back there at first. Then, business started to pick up. People flocked to Skyhold as the weather warmed and the roads cleared—people who didn’t know or care about the crazy group of mercenaries who had made Herald’s Rest their home.

Cherry’s heart sank whenever she served a patron back there. She had tried to influence the Inquisitor without outright warning her, to just plant a seed of doubt. Now, she wondered if being blunt might’ve been better. Only time would tell.

 

* * *

 

A month passed before she realized they were watching.

In hindsight, it was easy to see, but only those who knew what to look for would’ve saw it. A rotation of the same faces sitting at the bar in shifts from open to close. The elves, who shared the shoebox room next to her own tiny space, always retiring for the night at the same time as her. An extra stablehand during her usual weekly visit to the barn.

None of it clicked until a scout approached the stablehand. “Charter,” he’d called her. She slapped him with a manure-coated shovel.

 

* * *

 

Varric arrived back at Skyhold alone and without fanfare. If not for him showing up at the Herald’s Rest, she wouldn’t have known he’d returned at all.

“When did you get here?” she said, sinking into the closest empty chair. “Where is everyone else?”

He looked down at the table and sighed. “Kid, what exactly did you tell the Inquisitor before we left? Other than the bit about you being from another world, I mean.”

Cherry narrowed her eyes. “Answer my question, then maybe I answer yours.”

“Well, I broke my arm… and that was before everything went tits up.”

 

* * *

 

He and Scout Harding were halfway through a hand of Wicked Grace when the Inquisitor stormed back into camp. Blood coated her leather armor, and what little of it wasn’t stained red was scorched black.  Had she been a mage, her glare would’ve set him on fire.

“Evelyn, what—“

“Varric, you and Scout Harding should head back to Skyhold,” she snapped. “Now. Get your arm healed. Inform my advisors there will be no alliance with the Qun. And tell Leliana to screen everyone—I mean _everyone_ —who steps foot into our fortress. Tell her… she needs to speak with Cherry.”

 

* * *

 

“I do not understand. Why did she not come back with you? Why not send a raven?”

The dwarf scratched his chin. “Well, my guess is a raven would’ve been intercepted by the Qunari. I’m sure they had people watching us the whole time we were out there. As for where Evelyn is… On her way here, probably. She couldn’t have been more than two or three days behind us.”

Just as she was about to ask Varric another question, a gloved hand fell on her shoulder.

“Say no more, please,” the Nightingale said. “Let us speak about this elsewhere.”

 

* * *

 

Later, in the rookery, both of them wanted proof.

“The smell of Andraste’s Grace,” Cherry told Leliana. “Blue satin shoes. A white rose growing on a dead bush.”

To Varric, she said, “I do not know much about you. Too many lies and secrets. But… you thought Gamlen’s house smelled like cabbage. And you gave Merrill a ball of twine when she moved to the city.”

The dwarf was silent for a moment. “Well, that’s some creepy shit.”

“Indeed,” Leliana agreed.

She gave them both a hard stare. “I will not tell you about the future, so do not ask.”

 

* * *

 

True to Varric’s word, the Inquisitor’s party rode into Skyhold two days later.

Cherry didn’t see them arrive, but soon enough the news filtered into the tavern. The hours of her shift began to drag. Each time the door opened, she craned her head and hoped to catch a glimpse of horns or hear a peal of familiar laughter. Disappointment and fear ate at her belly every time.

And then the gossip started.

“Are you going to the funeral later?” Katherine asked Cabot.

“Nah. I bet most of the crowd will wind up here eventually.”

Cherry hurried away, eyes glossy.

 

**to be continued...**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2016.10.07: Sorry this one took a bit longer. It really did not want to be written.


End file.
